


Who Am I? I am We.

by orphan_account



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alive Cole Anderson, Alternate Universe - Sensates, Autistic Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Twins, Connor's not a cop, Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Twins, Elijah Kamski Being an Asshole, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Gay Disaster Gavin Reed, Good Elijah Kamski, Good Parent Hank Anderson, I have no idea how to tag this so just a warning, M/M, Multi, No Androids, Other, Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Todd Williams is the literal worst so be warned about that, ish, no beta we die like men, sense8 - Freeform, tags to be updated as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 10:53:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16324880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "I saw them," she tells him, though she knows she doesn't need to. She leans her head back against his shoulder, cheek pressed to his neck and he holds her still in the water. "I saw them, Elijah, and they were beautiful...""Of course they were," he whispers against her shoulder. "Of course they were, Chloe... how could anything come from you and not be absolutely perfect."And yet despite the calm and the beauty, she still feels a nugget of fear left in her chest. "What if we haven't done the right thing," she asks him and he presses a hand to her stomach to calm her nerves. "What if these people- what if she comes after them too?""You had no choice," he tells her truthfully. And she knows she didn't. A mother doesn't always give birth by choice. She knew this was coming all week and yet- and yet there was no stopping it short of ending her own life and he'd never allow her to do that. "We will protect them the best we can. And they will have each other now.""They will..."ORThe Sense8 AU that nobody asked for.





	Who Am I? I am We.

**Author's Note:**

> SO if you haven't seen Sense8, like what fucking rock are you living under? Seriously it's a work of art.  
> ANYWAY. You probably don't have to watch the show to understand what's happening here as it's with Detroit:Become Human characters anyway. As they learn what they are, you will too. It would be helpful to watch the show to get the science behind it, but you don't have to.  
> That being said, I will not be following the plot line of the show, just the universe and science and history. This will be it's own story. It's just kind of somethign that came to me so I while I've worked out a lot of it, I don't have a complete plot yet, so bare with me.  
> Read the tags for warnings and stuff, and I'll also put them at the beginning of each chapter as they come up.  
> ALSO this chapter is going to be shorter than the rest because it's more of an introduction, so don't let it discourage you from reading!  
> Thanks everyone for reading I love you!  
> AND GO WATCH SENSE8

She's beautiful, the woman in the shallow pool. Her golden hair glimmers in the light and her blue dress is stuck to her skin as it's soaked with water. Big blue eyes blink back tears, struggling to stay open and watch even though she wants to squeeze them closed, to fight back the pain. Strong arms wrap around her stomach from behind, tight and warm, protective, loving. He is whispering praises and promises in her ear though her head is pounding to loud to hear them.

It's not a normal pain by any means. 

It feels more as though her skin is being pulled in every direction, as if her skull can no longer contain her mind. Every nerve is alight with flame, the water lapping across her in hopes to cool it but only making it stronger. One hand reaches out and he takes it, the other is feeling and feeling, waiting for the grasp she knows will come.

She hears her name whispered through the air and knows he is worried. Their mother had died long ago and had never been able to pass along this experience to them. Neither knew what to expect. She could feel his worry and devastation between their bond, could feel him wanting to comfort her and yet not knowing how. He is cradling her from behind and cupping her face from the front, peppering kisses across her shoulders and across her cheeks. 

His hair has fallen from it's band, the water making it stick to the sides of his face and his piercing grey eyes are uncharacteristically emotional, her own tears flowing over his cheeks.

It starts off gradual, the release, and she thinks she whispers to him as he holds her.

"I see them-"

It starts with a twitch of her fingers, the cool press of metal between them.

Then the sharp scent of cigarette smoke in her nose and the aftertaste of it on her tongue.

There's the bite of winter nipping at her nose and the soft clinking of chalk against a blackboard.

She draws a long breath into her lungs as the headache slowly seeps from her, and she can feel paint flaking from her skin and two contrasting beats of music pulsing through her- one classical and one bouncing.

Then finally a feeling so similar to her own that she almost mistakes it for herself. It's a feeling of complete love and awe, the sound of a child's laughter and tiny hands tugging at her skirt.

She lets out her breath as the headache finally subsides and she lets the water take her. He is behind her still, holding her up, but as her eyes drift closed, she lets herself see them all for the first time.

She knows their names instantly, knows their languages and their souls, and is filled with such love for her children, something she never thought she would experience before and it is breathtaking. To see their eyes meet hers for the first time, to see the mix of confusion and recognition all at once... it's overwhelming and all she can do is smile at them.

The first is pacing a small dark room, a quarter flickering between his fingers anxiously. And he is anxious, she can feel it. It's not the same connection that she has from her own cluster, but it is strong and palpable against her skin. His amber eyes meet hers and he freezes, jaw dropping and shoulders tensing. She knows he feels her love, knows he can sense how powerful this moment is, and yet still she can practically taste his confusion as well.

The next she visits is a reflection of the first, though his eyes stormy blue and his head a half a foot taller. He is crouched low against a wall, head tilted as if he was listening for something. She can feel the weight of the gun in his hands, feel the adrenaline coursing through his blood and she wishes she could help him. His eyes meet hers and once again she is overwhelmed by his confusion as he waves her away. He yells at her to get back, ducking sharply as something whizzes by his head, slamming into the stone of the wall. Dust sprays across his face and she can feel it trickle across her own skin.

Another stands out in the snow, his dark face upturned and his eyes closed. He is a mountain of a man, strong and muscular and yet she can feel how soft his soul is inside. In his hands are bundles of wood and though his body is wrapped in wool and his head covered in a hat, his feet are bare and she can feel the cool dirt beneath his toes, hard and solid. When he meets her eyes there is no confusion, no awe or surprise. He simply nods at her and gives a gentle smile that has her smiling back.

Then she finds herself in a lecture hall, watching from the back, dripping water onto the old carpet. Her child stands at the bottom, half behind a podium, half stretched towards a chalkboard, excitedly explaining the outcome of the Trojan War. He pauses briefly in his explanation, eyes drifting over a sea of students and she knows he does not recognize her and yet can feel the familiarity in his bones. A raised hand and spouted question has him pulling back towards the class, sparing her one last glance.

She feels the next before she sees him, feels the calm and serenity consuming him as he paints. His fingers are loose around his paintbrush, little flecks of colour decorating the amber skin of his hands. There is no music playing in the open room, but another sits not far away at his own easel, hair graying and wheelchair squeaking slightly as he shifts. She pays little mind to the old man as her child turns away from his painting, no doubt sensing her presence as the others had. She is... curious as to why the sight of his dual coloured eyes did not surprise her, and yet still she assumes that a mother would love her children no matter what and see the beauty in their differences. She smiles at him and though he is confused, he smiles shyly back.

Three more remain and she watches the next silently as he works. The gentle sway of an orchestra fill his ears from small buds stuffed in them and his fingers fly across a keyboard faster than she'd ever seen. The screen is black and the letters green and the room he is in is dark and cramped. Files and books clutter every surface and he's huddled up on a roll up mattress instead of a bed. He catches a glimpse of her in the reflection of his computer, jolting sharply and turning to face her, but she is already moving on.

Classical music is replace by a sharp, bumping beat that echoes through her bones. Red lights flicker around the club and she watches the next dip herself upside down, her legs wrapped tightly around a silver pole and her arms stretching down and down and down. Long brown curls cascade like waterfalls in the air and hard brown eyes find her in the crowd. They don't linger long, though her brows furrow before smoothing out. She pulls herself back up, pole spinning her around seductively to the beat of the music.

The last is a more calming scene. She stands in the doorway of a kitchen. There is flour everywhere and the smell of fresh cookies wafts through the air. This one's hair is tied in a tight ponytail behind her head and her blue apron reads 'mommy knows best' across it. She is laughing, dancing to no music and trying to balance a little brown headed girl on the tops of her feet.

She is the first to feel frightened upon seeing her there, the first to feel such strong fear instead of confusion and it worries her. He must feel her worry because his hand clenches around hers, drawing her back to the pool and the silence and his kisses. They both know it is done, though far from over. They both know the danger they've now put these people in and themselves. And yet for a small moment, in the silence, so far away from anything else, she lets herself breathe. She lets herself feel the connection to her children and her lover.

And she knows she has given birth to eight wonderful people.

"I saw them," she tells him, though she knows she doesn't need to. She leans her head back against his shoulder, cheek pressed to his neck and he holds her still in the water. "I saw them, Elijah, and they were beautiful..."

"Of course they were," he whispers against her shoulder. "Of course they were, Chloe... how could anything come from you and not be absolutely perfect."

And yet despite the calm and the beauty, she still feels a nugget of fear left in her chest. "What if we haven't done the right thing," she asks him and he presses a hand to her stomach to calm her nerves. "What if these people- what if she comes after them too?"

"You had no choice," he tells her truthfully. And she knows she didn't. A mother doesn't always give birth by choice. She knew this was coming all week and yet- and yet there was no stopping it short of ending her own life and he'd never allow her to do that. "We will protect them the best we can. And they will have each other now."

"They will..."


End file.
